


Be my hella quarantine.

by ChaoticNeutralChocolate



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Complete, Coronavirus, Don't copy to another site, Fluff and Humor, Inaccuracies for the sake of the plot, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Not Beta Read, POV Alternating, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:47:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23057224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaoticNeutralChocolate/pseuds/ChaoticNeutralChocolate
Summary: A hotel. A global pandemic. A quarantine.All you need to bring two perfect strangers into the same bedroom.Hella cuteHella fineBe my hellavalentinequarantine
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 31
Kudos: 110





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is not beta'd and I'm not native, if you notice something is wrong please tell me and I'll fix it!
> 
> [Hella poem source!](https://funny-pics-4-u.tumblr.com/post/75016959961)

Aziraphale had just been intercepted on his way to leave the hotel; he was told to wait at the reception hall for further information on the matter. It had been two hours, maybe more, since then and he had observed how every single person who had also tried to leave was told the exact same thing.

«What might be happening?», he wondered. 

The group who was waiting had become insanely large and which every new addition Aziraphale had been pushed further away from the reception desk until he was waiting next to the glass doors. He kind of preferred it this way, actually. People were arguing with the receptionists and Aziraphale had always been a patient being, glad to wait for an explanation instead of trying to fight for one.

In his new strategic placement, Aziraphale was able to observe the outside. There was an ambulance and a police car, and he could observe some reporters in the distance.

«Maybe there's been a murder!», though Aziraphale, a well known mystery books lover.

A couple tried to enter the hotel just to be stopped by a policewoman and a doctor. They weren't the first people who had tried, but they were the ones who had come closer to the glass doors before been stopped.

«If I move a little, maybe I'll be able to hear what are they saying.»

Sadly, he was interrupted by a burst of voices joining the hall. A new bunch of people, more than thirty, was coming from the stairs that lead to the West wing of the hotel. They were families, businesspeople or simple tourists; people who stayed at the hotel, no workers in sight. They joined the distressed people who wanted to leave, but they looked like they knew what was exactly happening. Aziraphale heard how they were brought out of their rooms, other were asking for their belongings. Before he could ask a newcomer what they knew, the answer came in the shape of even more people.

Aziraphale saw five people came down from the same stairs. One he easily recognized, the hotel manager, he was there the day Aziraphale checked in. The other four were the ones who answered his questions. Two wearing protective gear, two wearing face masks and looking miserably sick. «Oh, no.» After a few words with the managers, they were the first people who were allowed to leave the building.

The hotel manager, Aziraphale realized, didn't look as sick but he did look even more miserable than the two men who had left. The manager managed to move between the mass who were trying to talk to him and reached the reception desk. Once he was safe behind it, he produced a microphone and asked the people to be quiet.

"First, I want to say that I'm sorry" he said. People started to shout again. Most of them, as Aziraphale identified, were those who had come from the West wing rooms. "Please, I need you to listen", he asked too calm, like he was about to tell Aziraphale and the others tomorrow's forecast.

Aziraphale was pushed to his side and he turned to complain, just to see the policewoman and the doctor enter the hotel, heading to the front desk were the manager was still trying to get people calm to be able to explain the situation. They talked to him and his face show relief while he handed the policewoman the microphone. Maybe it was the uniform, maybe not, but people quiet down almost instantly.

She didn't mess around and got to the point.

«This hotel is now under quarantine.»

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: _Where was Crowley?_


	2. Chapter 2

Crowley was enjoying some well deserved sleep after last night gig when he woke up from some knocks on his room's door. He thought it was the cleaning service, so he not so kindly shouted "Please, come back later". Yeah, that should be enough.

It wasn't.

Maybe they were just trying to confirm if there were someone in the room, because as soon as Crowley spoke, he heard the classic opening card's beep and the door was opened. Crowley grunted and rolled on the bed, and straightened with indignation. How did they dare to enter his room like that? He was sure he put the "Do not disturb" sign on the door when he came back last night.

"Hell, wasn't I clear enough? I'm trying to sleep here. Clean the damn room later!"

Once he got a clear view of the door, he saw no cleaning service. Instead, two people dressed like they belonged to a sci-fi film were slowly approaching his bed.

"What the fuck?"

"We're sorry, sir. There's been two confirmed cases of COVID19 in this hotel" said the tallest astronaut, with a female voice.

"We are testing every person on this wing, where they were lodging" said the other one, a man, while pointing at him with what looked like a broken laser gun.

"Co-what?" asked Crowley, still half-asleep.

"You might have heard about the coronavirus, haven't you?" asked the woman.

"Oh, that" he said nonchalantly. "Oh, fuck!" he added, _chalantly_.

"Yes, exactly" said the man, now standing besides him. "Please, stay still."

The man, who now Crowley realized had to be a doctor, pointed at his forehead with the sci-fi thermometer until it beeped.

"36.4 Celsius" he said, and his companion wrote it down. "That's a good sign, sir!"

"Can I sleep now?" asked Crowley, a bit nervous.

"We can't discard the illness with a simple temperature check" said the woman. "We are going to ask you some questions first, that's the best way to guess if you might be infected with the COVID19 until we get more kits. If you pass our questions, you'll stay in the hotel quarantine for fourteen days and then you'll be free to go if you are still asymptomatic."

"Quaran-? Quarantine? For fourteen days?" Crowley got on his feet, where he got a bit of advantage against the two doctors thanks to his height. "I can't pay fourteen days here!" Crowley realized he was shouting, so he took a deep breath to steady himself. "And I have work to do, you know?"

"You won't have to worry about the bill. And your health is more important than your work, isn't it?" 

"Yeah, yeah, okay... ask away" he said, sitting on the corner of his bed, fully awake now.

"Since when are you staying here?" asked the woman.

«What a stupid question,» thought Crowley. «They surely know if they have talked with the hotel management. Maybe they are trying to check if I'm honest?» He wasn't going to lie anyway.

"Since Thursday. That's, uh, three days" Crowley calculated with his fingers. "I was due to leave tomorrow morning" he added before they asked.

"Okay" said the man, checking some papers. Probably the list with every room guests and their schedules. Since the man was dressed in the protective suit, it was difficult to see his face and guess if he was content with what he was reading.

"Have you been inside your room all these days?"

"No, I've left every night, including last one. I got some shows at a bar around here" he said, pointing at his bass.

"So you've been in contact with many people since Thursday..." That wasn't a question, so he didn't answer. "Have you feel any symptoms? Sore throat? Cough? Chest pain?"

"I'm completely fine."

The questions continued for a while, mostly to know the name of the places Crowley had visited. They also wanted to know if he had used any of the common areas. He felt relieved, since he was eating at the bar who had hired him. Then he felt worried about the possibility of carrying a virus to the place without knowing.

"That be all, Mr Crowley." «Ha! They knew my name! And they still asked about shit they knew already, bastards.» "You won't need to come with us, but the quarantine is advised. Please, get dressed and wait for us in the corridor, we still have a few rooms to visit. No luggage, please."

And with no more ado, they left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: _How is Aziraphale dealing with the news?_


	3. Chapter 3

As Aziraphale suspected as soon as he had seen the specialists wearing protective gear, they were now under a fourteen days quarantine. Two people from the West wing of the hotel had been infected with the new COVID19 and now everyone who had stayed on the hotel since Tuesday, the day they had arrived, had to patiently wait and pray not to be infected too.

The problem was, if being potentially infected by a new virus was not enough, that the West wing of the hotel was going to be decontaminated, and they needed to move their guests to the East wing, were Aziraphale had his room. He usually enjoyed the best things' life could offer you, so he had a big suite with a king-size bed that now he regretted paying for. Aziraphale fought for the chance to be left alone, since he didn't like the idea of sharing his bed with a complete stranger, but he had no choice. There weren't enough rooms to fit them all, and he had to be grateful that his room only had armchairs and zero sofas, or he would have even more people to share the quarantine experience with.

They, somehow, ignored when Aziraphale said that it was stupid to forbid him to greet his future companion by shaking hand and, at the same time, not seeing a problem about them sharing a bed. «I'm not a health expert, mind you, but if touching a hand can transmit the virus, I'm certain that sharing sheets can too.» They had dismissed him to begin his health and habits check.

Thankfully, the doctor had been really comforting, and Aziraphale passed the temperature check and the questions that followed it. Aziraphale had to give them the address of the places he had visited since he had arrived at the hotel, but they were just a few and the interview ended quickly. He had wondered if the new guest could be a potential threat, but the doctors made clear that the first people they have checked were those who had their rooms closer to the infected couple, and those who hadn't pass the initial check had left the hotel to be quarantined in a controlled environment. So, no, his visitor would be as clean as he was. «Or not», he thought.

Aziraphale was also sad about the fact that the common areas had to be disinfected to, and that meant no restaurant and a shortened menu. The manager had explained to them that the food would be delivered in a trolley by masked hotel employees, same with the towels and every other amenities he, «or we», could need. They just simply had to pick up the phone and ask away.

He was sitting on his favourite armchair by the window when he heard a knock on the door. Aziraphale had been told the new guest wouldn't get cards to open the door, since they weren't expected to leave their rooms. He sighed and resigned himself to his destiny. «Please, you better be good.» The knocks were stronger now. "I'm going" said Aziraphale, loud enough to be heard from the opposite side of the large room and through the door.

When he opened the door, he saw a slim man with auburn long hair wearing dark clothes. He looked like he had just woken up, his hair was a mess and, Aziraphale suspected, his trousers belonged to a pajamas. And, besides all that, he was exquisite; a mind-blowing combination of carelessness and elegance.

"Hi" he greeted, cheerful, "I'm Crowley. Can I come in? I'm tired as fuck."

And, without the captivated Aziraphale having a say on the matter—he even didn't notice the swearing—, Crowley stepped inside and explored the room.

"Wow, I can't even afford to have a private bathroom!" he turned back to look at Aziraphale. "Whose cock do I have to suck to get a room like this?"

«Mine.»

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: _Will they get along well?_


	4. Chapter 4

Crowley turned over when he got no answer, just to see the other man paralysed in front of the door looking at the empty corridor.

«Oh, no! I broke him!» Crowley examined his new room-mate for the first time. He guessed they were both the same age, but they surely had chosen very different paths on their lives. He was wearing a three pieces cream suit, with a freaking bow tie! Crowley should have known better before opening his mouth. He was about to apologize when the man came back to life and started talking.

"I'm sure you don't mean that, dear boy", he said, closing the door without looking at Crowley.

"What part? About the cock or about the sucking?" «Fuck, Crowley! Weren't you just thinking about not scandalizing the man any more?»

The man mumbled something like "I don't even know what you mean with that" while tugging at his collar and becoming a shade of red that rivalized Crowley's hair.

"It was a joke, I'm sorry" apologized, although late, Crowley. "I didn't even ask you your name" he said, trying to get a new start for both of them.

"Oh, yes, of course." The man looked relieved about the change of subject. "Aziraphale" he said, offering his hand, which he quickly removed since they all have been warned about avoiding touching hands and faces. 

"I'm sorry. I'm not implying you are..."

"Don't worry" interrupted Crowley laughing. "I was told the same."

Aziraphale finally moved from his spot near the door and sat down on an armchair by the window. Crowley followed him, but decide to sit at the bed instead of the other armchair.

"Just that?" Crowley asked.

"Just what?" replied Aziraphale.

"Just Aziraphale, I mean."

"Maybe", he said, laughing for the first time. It was a healing sound that Crowley decided he wanted to hear more often. "I guess you are neither just Crowley, am I wrong?"

"I'm not", replied Anthony Crowley.

"But it is enough."

Crowley smiled this time. "It is."

He noticed how the other man seemed more relaxed, maybe he had even forgotten the slip of mind Crowley had showed earlier. He didn't want to push further, since he wanted the fourteen days to go by as smoothly as possible. Still, he neither wanted to pass a fortnight just staring silently at each other, so he better find soon some topic to address.

"Don't you think they are doing the most botched job ever?" he blurted out.

"About the virus, you mean?" Aziraphale asked. "Of course they do. But, haven't you seen the news? Botched jobs seem to be the norm."

Crowley didn't know up until this moment that answering a yes or no question with twenty words could be sexy. «That's not it. I'm just sapiosexual.»

"I mean" said Crowley, "why do they need to sterilize my room? Those dudes had never been in my room. They made me come here without my clothes!"

"Oh, so that's why..." Aziraphale mumbled. "I don't think my clothes would fit you but..." he waved at the wardrobe.

"Thanks, but I think I'll pass for today..." he began. «Wait. I didn't get the chance to shower!» Crowley started smelling his shirt in front of an amused Aziraphale. "Do I smell too bad?"

Aziraphale chuckled. "You smell like a bar."

"Like a good bar or a bad bar?" asked Crowley, smoothing his now wrinkled shirt.

"Like a cheap bar" aswered the blonde with a grin.

"Oh, thanks, that relieves me" said an ironic Crowley. "I was afraid I smelled like a fancy bar."

"You can't trick me. I'm certain you enjoy fancy bars."

"Only if I fancy the company" grinned Crowley back, with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

Aziraphale had no answer this time, so he simply sat back on his armchair and waited for Crowley to continue. Or maybe for him to dissapear and let the man enjoy his embarrasment alone.

"I don't know", said Crowley to avoid an unconfortable silence. "I don't think I should shower if I have to put back the same clothes again."

"Don't worry" answered Aziraphale quickly. He cleaned his troath and said: "I can bear the smell of cheap wine from time to time." «Did he just try to make a joke?»

"It wasn't _that_ cheap!"

"Was it _that_ good?"

"It wasn't."

"Then it _was_ cheap" said Aziraphale, who suddenly stood up and walked to the phone in the nightstand. He pressed some numbers and waited for a bit. 

"Charles, my dear, is that you?" he said. "Oh, Daniel, you sound just like him! Yes, I'm calling about lunch, you see. Might you add a bottle of the usual today? And two glasses this time. Thank you, my dear."

"The usual?" said Crowley.

"Wine, of course! _Real_ wine, I'd say."

They relaxed for a while, lunch wouldn't come until an hour later. Aziraphale had produced a book from somewhere and started reading with tiny golden glasses that transformed his focused expression into a cute pout. Crowley had dismissed the idea of a shower already, so he did the second thing he needed the most: he had a nap. Crowley thought he shouldn't get into the bed dressed in stinky clothes, so he undressed and got under the sheets only with his boxers on. If he had noticed that some hazel eyes had lingered too much, he simply assumed it was all a creation of his hyperactive imagination.

He didn't even notice when Aziraphale opened the room's door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: _First day, first night!_


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, maybe you thought I forgot about this, but I didn't! Those episodes were short because they were just the introduction. This chapter is bigger than all the other put together and I hope you enjoy it as much as them. Again, I'm sorry about any mistake you might find! English is hard and I have no betas :(
> 
> Aaaand, yep, my country is in quarantine now too! Sadly, I don't have a cute room-mate like those two.

The man, Crowley, had fallen asleep as soon as his ear had laid over the pillow. He had undressed himself first, which surprised Aziraphale quite a lot and couldn't stop himself for staring a bit too much at the revealed skin. Crowley was pale but not as much as Aziraphale himself, he had an olive tint on his freckle-covered skin; Aziraphale wondered how would his smooth skin contrast against Crowley's.

Aziraphale had to admit, he hadn't read that much. The book on his hands was merely a cover in case the red-haired woke up and looked at him. Aziraphale could simply say that he had stop reading because he was reflecting on something he had just read. He was staring, a bit too much, but it was the first time he had feel like this in such a long time.

Crowley was rude and impulsive, the complete opposite of what Aziraphale would describe himself. And maybe that was exactly the reason he was feeling this compelled to learn a bit more about the man. Aziraphale knew his name ―or a part of it―, and that was it. He knew that he smelled like alcohol, cheap wine to be precise, but he had yet to know if he had spent his night on a bar merely drinking or if he had any other interest at play there. Aziraphale wondered if he might be a barman, but then why stay in a hotel? He played many scenarios on his head and, after dismissing the worst ones, he settled on Crowley being a DJ. «A bad paid DJ, I'd say.»

While he was looking at him, wondering about his life, Aziraphale realized the man moved a lot on his sleep. He got into the bed in the furthest side from Aziraphale, with his back staring at him. Now, if he were to open his eyes, he would see Aziraphale at arm's length.

Aziraphale already had his reservations about sharing a bed with the man, but now that he knew that Crowley was the moving kind, he was sure he was about to spend the night on his armchair, like he had done many times before if he had extended a night of study far too long. Yes, maybe his back and neck would ache a bit next day, but that would hurt less than wake up clinging to Crowley just to get out of bed like it was an event of no significance.

When he realized where his head was going, he chuckled.

"I'm thinking about sharing a bed with him and I'm not event worried about what brought us here", he mumbled.

Would be the virus a good excuse for him about not wanting to share the bed?

"No, that'd be stupid. I might offend him."

Thinking about the best approach, he heard a timid knock on the door. Aziraphale checked his pocket watch and it was already lunchtime. He walked as discreetly as he could and opened the door slowly, while hushing at pointing with his thumb over his shoulder.

"Mr Crowley is asleep" he whispered.

"Oh!" said the girl who carried the trolley. He could barely see her face behind the mask, but she was a new one for Aziraphale.

"Here's your meal but... I'm sorry, Daniel told me about the wine and that's the best I could find."

Aziraphale pick up the bottle and read _Valdepeñas 1993._ «Oh, Spanish!» He wasn't used to Spanish wine, but he knew enough to know that 1993 had been an excellent vintage. He checked the label again more closely and read _100% syrah, 18 meses en barrica._ «Fantastic.»

"It's a good choice, uh..." he checked the lady's name tag. "Kate, thank you." «Better than whatever Crowley had been drinking last night, of course.»

"Oh, thank YOU. People are stockpiling wine and every other alcoholic drink for these days, we're running out. I'm glad I made a good choice, all my wine knowledge comes from Wikipedia" 

"You did a wonderful job, Kate but, are people really stockpiling drinks?"

"Yes, I'm afraid, sir."

"Do you have more of these?" he said waiving the bottle on his hand.

"A few, yes. Will you need more?"

"Kate, I'm sorry but I'll be stockpiling too. I'd like to have at least a bottle for every day of quarantine."

"Of, course, sir. I'll arrange it and you'll get them delivered with your dinner. Anything else?"

"Yes, do you know when will Mr Crowley get his clothes?"

"Mr Crowley?"

"Yes, he came from the West wing."

"Oh! I don't know him, I'm sorry. Sterilization started early this morning, they began cleaning the rooms closer to the infected couple in the fourth floor. We believe they'll finish with the third floor this evening so, if his room was in either of those floors we'll bring his belongings tomorrow morning along with breakfast.

«I don't know Crowley's room. Either way, I'll tell him.»

"Thank you, Kate. What should I do with the trolley?"

"We'll check again in two hours. If there are trolleys missing, we'll check again an hour before dinner. Simply put them back in the corridor when yo're finish."

Aziraphale said goodbye and closed the door. As soon as it was shut, he heard Kate knock the door from the room next to his. He put the wine back in the trolley and moved it next to the table. He didn't want to wake up Crowley before every piece of tableware was exactly on their place, so he had to move as carefully as he could.

"I guess this might me enough" he whispered when he had a table you would expect in a three stars Michelin restaurant.

He moved to the bed's side that Crowley was invading then. He had been moving during Aziraphale earlier conversation, probably he was almost awake. Aziraphale put his hand over his shoulder and shook him gently.

"My dear, our meal is here. Don't let it get even colder."

Crowley opened one eye and mumbled "even colder?"

"I'm afraid I talked with Kate for too long" Aziraphale chuckled. "And, well, I wanted to give you a fancy lunch, so I might have lost a bit of time preparing the table."

Crowley came from under the sheets to reveal his semi naked body which, obviously, Aziraphale didn't look at. He looked at the table and started laughing.

"You don't like it?" mumbled Aziraphale, upset.

"Oh, nonono!" said Crowley quickly. "You know, you didn't have to do any of... this." He pointed at the folded napkins and the perfectly presented cutlery. "It's like the bars, Aziraphale."

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Every meal is fancy for me if I fancy the company", he said while carefully presenting a chair to Aziraphale. "Don't let it get even colder" said mimicking Aziraphale, who sat in awe. Crowley quickly followed him and sat in the side to his left, instead on the one in front of him that Aziraphale had prepared so thoughtfully.

«Why?», he wondered, and it seemed that Crowley was able to read his mind and decided to answer the unasked question.

"Oh, you know" he said while putting every little thing in front of him, "one in front of each other is way too formal, don't you think?"

"I suppose you may be right. But, speaking of formalities... don't you think about wearing something?" said Aziraphale pointing at his naked body with a fork.

"Yeah, maybe I should but I don't really want to get my only clothes even more dirty" he said, revealing the first plate. "Oh, salmon! Love it!" And he attacked the salmon like a starving lion, red messy mane and all.

Aziraphale thought this was his cue to start eating too, so he did. He wanted to tell Crowley about his clothes, but you shouldn't speak if you are eating, and that's what he was going to do. Crowley didn't seem to mind, and had already checked the second dish which contained the salad they were supposed to be eating first. Aziraphale wondered if Crowley had been eating properly the last few days ―or the last decade―, given his excited munching. Now that they were so close to each other Aziraphale could see the skinniness the clothes and later the sheets were trying to hide. He said he couldn't even afford a room with a bathroom, couldn't he even allow proper food? He hadn't even noticed the wine after all!

For the first time in his life, Aziraphale felt he wasn't the person who was eating the most at the table.

When Crowley finished the main dishes, he revealed the desserts. Instead of twin plates, they had brought two different ones: an angel cake and an apple. Aziraphale had been in second place the whole time, so before Crowley could pick the cake for himself, Aziraphale manifested his ninja powers and the cake was just a puff of smoke before Crowley's hand reached the desserts. The redhead opened his eyes amazed and looked at him.

"What?" said Aziraphale.

Crowley simply started laughing.

"I was going to pick the apple!". And he did, still laughing.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Maybe I ate too much? I'm not usually like this but I've been eating mayo chicken sandwiches for days! And I love them but... you get it!"

Aziraphale relaxed and proceeded to enjoy his angel cake. It what the afterwards of the meal, he was allowed to talk again. But, of course, he may swallow first.

"You didn't realize I got wine."

"Oh, I did! But I supposed it was for getting drunk afterwards! Are you that kind of people that eats with wine and check if the food fits the wine requirements?"

"Uh, oh..." Aziraphale decided it was best to take another bite of the cake.

"That's so cool, maybe you can teach me!"

Obviously, that wasn't what Aziraphale was expecting to hear, but they were good news after all!

"Of course, I'll teach you, dear boy."

"Nice" he said, placing his foot over the chair in front of Aziraphale and giving a slow bite to the red apple. «He looks hot as sin.» "Yes, Aziraphale," he said after swallowing, resting the bitten apple against his chin, "I would love if you taught me."

«I'm dead and this is Heaven. That dammed virus had already got me!»

"But I'd like to get drunk too, either way" said Crowley, who was now eating and sitting properly again. Or as properly as you can be while only wearing boxers.

"Oh, about your clothes! Where was your room? They are sterilizing the fourth and third floor, so they might have your belongings by tomorrow morning."

"Damn, no. I was in the 215, do you know if they'll do that floor tomorrow morning? Maybe I'd get my clothes in the evening if they did. I don't have anything against those pajama pants «I knew it!», but I'd like to change soon."

"I don't know, but we can ask Kate or whomever bring us dinner later."

"And until then, I guess I'm back to the pajama pants."

Aziraphale was about to protest but, which excuse can you use to keep the man wearing nothing at all. That his clothes smelled like wine? Well, so did he, he was the one who had been there drinking. The clothes smell because of him and no the other way around. No, that was no excuse to avoid the man get dressed again. But could it work as an excuse for not sleeping in the same bed?

"No way, I already told him I can stand cheap wine" he mumbled.

"What?" said Crowley, who had already put everything back on the trolley and was heading to the black puddle of clothes next to the bed.

"I was wondering if you could differentiate this one from a cheap wine", Aziraphale said while grabbing the bottle.

"Oh, I can without even trying it" he said putting the shirt on. "It's not on carton!"

Aziraphale couldn't avoid a chuckle. "Indeed it isn't, it's a first step. You are doing good in your journey to find the perfect wine."

"I have the best teacher" he said, completely dressed again, and sat in the exact same spot he had been eating next to Aziraphale.

"Well, then. Are you going to open it?"

"Yes, but I'm going to take the trolley out first. You pour the glasses but, not here, there's another chair behind the one I used to read."

"On my way" he said Crowley, grabbing the bottle and the glasses to the side table between the chairs.

Aziraphale took the trolley to the door and looked outside but he didn't have any luck. There wasn't anyone he could ask about tomorrows sterilizations plans. He closed the door and turned to see Crowley rejecting the way armchairs are supposed to be used. He had already poured the wine and was pointing at him with a glass. Who could refuse that invitation? Not Aziraphale, of course.

He sat in his usual armchair and accepted the glass and took a quick sip, he needed it given that Crowley's right leg was hanging pretty close to his. Crowley didn't seem to mind, even then. He was barefoot and he seemed to enjoy it, since his toes moved cheerfully. It was because of Aziraphale or the wine?

"Are you enjoying the wine, my dear?" asked Aziraphale, eager.

"Not so bad."

«Not so bad? What in heaven! Then why does he look so playful?» Aziraphale was about to cite all the reasons that helped made the 1993 vintage in Valdepeñas an excellent one, unlike those wine he might had tried before in those pubs that payed him probably in the chicken sandwiches he mentioned earlier.

"Hey, calm down" said Crowley, laughing. "You are getting a bid red, are you ok? Although it something yo seem to do a lot, so maybe I shouldn't worry at all."

"But do you like the wine?" mumbled Aziraphale.

"Of course I do, you silly bastard!"

"Bastard, why?" Now he was confused, how could Aziraphale be a bastard if he had chosen a good wine?

"Because I could see you mind racing about to tell me how I should be enjoying something so good I couldn't even afford to pay. Seems really bastard to me, don't you think? I don't know if you really feel bad for me or are you just trying to show off." He finished his glass and poured another one without looking, completely exploring Aziraphale's expression. His technique was astounding for someone who wasn't an expert, he even controlled the last drop with an elegant spin of his wrist.

"I should say that I think I overstepped and for that I'm sorry."

"No, you didn't", Crowley said, and filled Aziraphale's glass even more, forcing him to drink to avoid any spill. "I'm used to that. Used to both, actually. But I don't think you were trying to show off. I feel that you enjoy wine so much that you felt responsible for me, how could exist people out there who are missing this marvellous beverage in his truest for?" he asked mocking Aziraphale's voice.

"Now drink and don't worry" he said toasting their glasses.

And drink they did, until they realize one bottle wasn't enough, so it was time to worry again. This time was Crowley the one who worried first.

"Sometimes I forget I'm here because of some kind of plague. And it's just the first day."

"That's the TV is off. I bet they are waiting for the first zombie to rise."

Crowley burst laughing and had troubles to speak. "Wow, you are actually funny when you are tipsy!"

"I'm fun!"

"Of course you are! Are you a comedian or something?"

"What? No, of course. I'm a food critic."

"Do critic earn enough to be able to afford a room like this? If I had known..."

"What? No. I get invited anonymously."

"And yet you still smell like a rich bastard. No offence!" he added, quickly. The tipsy Aziraphale didn't care.

"I have a side business", he added mysteriously.

"Oh! Is it drugs?" Crowley seemed really invested in this conversation now.

"I'm an antiquarian. I leverage the travels my job offers me to find good deals that might help me earn a bit of money in another place."

"Sounds cool but I bet you don't sell everything you get. I bet you have a big-ass wine cellar somewhere! The wine hoarder you are!"

"You are kind of right."

"Oh, what did I got wrong? It isn't wine?"

"No, my dear, they are books", he said pointing at the desk full of book, some of them still in the middle of their restoration. "My critics are anonymous so nobody expects the _book hoarder_."

"And you even know memes! Well, I get I shouldn't judge a book by its cover."

"So you've learned a very important lesson!" laughed Aziraphale. He didn't know if he was wine tipsy or Crowley tipsy, but he was feeling rather good with himself, something that had not happened in a long time. "And what about you? What do you do for a living?"

"Can you guess?" he said resting his chin on his hand, which was resting on his thigh, which was resting on the armchair's arm.

"I already tried to guess earlier. I suppose you worked at that bar with the cheap wine, don't you?"

"Not always, but yes, I was working last night. I wasn't just getting drunk for the sake of it. That's why I meet you, I suppose." He smiled and did that wiggle with his eyebrows again. Aziraphale decided to ignore the bait, it would make even more difficult to explain later why he wouldn't sleep with him. «Not sleep with him! Sleep in the same bed with him!»

"So I guessed you might be a DJ? Not resident, and certainly not really well payed. I even wondered if you were payed on chicken sandwiches!"

Crowley smiled. "You get it half right."

"I'm glad to hear that you aren't being payed with food."

"Oh, no! That's true! I play the bass."

"What? Are you getting payed on sandwiches?"

" _Mayo chicken sandwiches_ " he emphasised every word. "And some money too, enough to pay a cavernous room in this hotel."

"The bass, you said... I never learned to play any instrument."

"Maybe I can teach you! While you teach me about the wines, of course! Drunk Crowley is best musician Crowley!"

"That would be lovely."

"Now we just have to wait for them to bring back my bass along with my clothes. I hope they are treating him right, he's rather delicate."

"Oh, then he's just like you!"

They kept talking until it was late enough to be hungry again. Aziraphale knew he should be calling soon to ask what they wanted for dinner, but he was really enjoying this conversation. He even forgot the bad pain the arm chain inflicted on his back when he sat for long periods of time. Unfortunately, his stomach betrayed him and decided to make an indecent noise that reminded Crowley how he had stolen most of Aziraphale's food during lunch.

"You're hungry! Why didn't you say?" He stood up and headed to the phone but hesitated before picking it.

"What happens?"

"Do you think they'll be ok with it if we order takeaway? I know a Japanese near here that would blow your mind! Wait... do you even like those places?"

"My dear Crowley, I'm a food critic but I'm not stupid. I know how to enjoy fish and chips too! And, let me tell you, I love sushi."

"Then sushi is it" said Crowley with a smile, picking up the phone.

"Hi, I would like to ask you a question. Can we order food from the outside and get it delivered here? Yes? Thanks." He made an okay sign with his hand to Aziraphale and picked up his from from the night table. "I'll order now, I guess they'll be here in half an hour or so."

"And what do you think we should do until then?" blurted Aziraphale, letting the naughty part of his brain speak for him.

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe turn on the TV and wait for the zombies to appear?"

Thankfully, there were no zombies in the news, but that didn't make them a bit sweeter. Most of the time they forgot the reason that brought them together in that exact room, and first days are always the easiest ones. Aziraphale wondered how would they feel about each other the fifth day, ot the tenth or the fourteenth if they receive the news about the quarantine being prolonged. Like a miracle, the sushi arrived and this time was Crowley the one who opened the door to get the food.

"What is all of this?" he asked excited to Aziraphale. He turned to see Crowley looking tho a dozen of bottles of wine with sparkling eyes.

"Oh, people were hoarding spirits and all, so I thought we should hoard too. I asked for, at least, one bottle for every day. Are there enough?"

"I think there are thirteen... I guess we already wasted the one from today."

"Oh, it wasn't wasted if we enjoyed it. Did you?"

"I did. And I hope you enjoy this too."

Crowley prepared the table this time, and Aziraphale enjoyed every minute of it. Maybe Crowley didn't have the manners of Aziraphale, but he did have the sense of style and a really trained eye. He seemed to remember how Aziraphale had prepared everything earlier, and adapted it for a very different meal.

"Come here! I asked more than I should be given my financial status but I think I owed it to you. Please, don't hold yourself this time."

"I wont, my boy."

And he didn't. Crowley hadn't lied, the sushi was simply splendid and Aziraphale made up for the lost lunch. Then he felt bad about Crowley and asked to share the cost, but he refused to say how much did it cost and pointed out how Aziraphale had payed for all the wine by himself. Crowley even let Aziraphale relax for a while after dinner and cleaned the table by himself, leaving the trolley in the corridor in no time. When he was back he looked into Aziraphale eyes and asked _the question_ :

"So... how are we going to do it?"

"Do what?" asked Aziraphale in return, like he didn't know what Crowley meant.

"Well, sleep, of course!"

"Oh, the bed is all yours" said Aziraphale quickly, like it was the way to avoid any further response from Crowley.

"What? Why? We've been close all day, if I was gonna infect you I already did during lunch!"

"I don't mean that. It just..."

"Just what?" asked Crowley sitting on the bed and crossing his arms.

"I, uh" «Think, quickly!», "I have work to do?" «What?»

"What?"

"Yes, I have to write a report about how, uh, how the hotel is handling the quarantine. My boss asked my earlier when you were asleep."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"They want you to write about how the quarantine is going the first day? That's ridiculous!" «Of course it is, I'm just a bad liar.»

"They want me to write every day! My boss want an inside view of the event, day by day."

"Weren't you a food critic? And an antiquarian? Are you a reporter too now?" Crowley looked like he wasn't sure if he should be confused of angry.

"Yes, I'm both of those things, but I work for a online magazine. They saw the opportunity and took it."

"Ok." He seemed relaxed now, but a tad disappointed. "So you aren't going to sleep all night?"

"Oh, I will eventually. If I just had started writing sooner... but I was really enjoying that time with you." Aziraphale reprimanded himself, he was supposed to be distancing himself and now he said _that._

"Really?" Crowley's eyes shined. "Ok, I'll wait for you." He looked relaxed now, maybe Aziraphale had said the right thing. Crowley undressed himself again and got into the further side on the bed, leaving Aziraphale the side closer to his desk. Once he was inside, he turned to look at Aziraphale. "I'll be here, you do your work." And he started playing some game on his phone.

Aziraphale was trapped on his own lie, so he better wrote that article. In an hour, Crowley was fast asleep over his phone. Half an hour later, Aziraphale fell asleep on his desk, where Crowley would find him the next morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: _Will Crowley get some clothes?_


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost had this day planned out but, mid-writing, I realized Aziraphale POV would fit the afternoon better. I had to rewrite Crowley's part a bit, until I could find a good place to cut the chapter.
> 
> About the current situation, today's my 14th day without going out. Well, I lied, I took out the trash once. You might think that what Crowley and Aziraphale are doing in this fic is boring as fuck, that the only thing they do is eat and talk... Yes, quarantine is boring and I think my own mood is reflecting a bit on this history. I'm tired and sad, and it's difficult for me to avoid conflict between these two. I'm planing to change that soon, I hope I'll deliver it in a way you might enjoy :)
> 
> To all of you, please, stay safe at home, social distancing is not enough; and, if you are one of those who can't stay at home because you have work to do, thank you!
> 
> Love!

Crowley woke up with a noticeable headache that he couldn't really blame on the wine. It had been at lunch, he'd had enough time to sober up before going to sleep, and he had eaten a lot too. More than Aziraphale, even. «Aziraphale...». He could hear someone snoring softly behind him. Smiling, Chowley reached with is arm to his back, but he had no luck while he explored under the sheets. Confused, Crowley turned to look at the other side and confirmed his concerns: the bed was empty. He barely had lo lift his head to see a deep asleep Aziraphale over his desk, still dressed and with a fountain pen in his hand.

«Poor thing, he's probably been working all night. Better not to interfere with his work today.»

Suddenly, he head a knock on the door that made him check the time on his phone. They've been told breakfast time was at 09:00 but they were given the option to put a "Do not disturb" sign if they weren't going to be up and ready by then. After the rushed bed time last night, they both forgot to put on the sign or to put on an alarm.

Crowley put on his pants, checked his hair on the mirror —there was nothing he could do about it—, and opened the door, where he was greeted by a young masked man with a tag that said "Charles", was he one of Aziraphale's friends?

"Good morning, Mr Crowley. Would you like some tea or coffee with your breakfast?"

Charles didn't come with a trolley for them this time. He had a big cart full of teapots, coffee pots, pastries and some hot meals that were hidden under steamed bells.

"Coffee, please. Just a bit of milk."

"Of course, sir." He watched Charles prepare a tray with two cups, the first with black coffee tinted with a quick drop of milk, the second, for Aziraphale.

"Aziraphale is asleep, I don't know what he wants" he said, checking inside the room again to see if he was still on his desk.

"Oh, I know Mr. Fell's usual." He picked up one of the teapots, marked with a picture that probably served to identify the tea. He poured the milk and began to serve a complex mix of pastries, slices of cakes and fruits. That wasn't what surprised Crowley.

"Uh, oh... His name is Aziraphale Fell?" «What were those parent's thinking?»

"Oh, no, his last name is unpronounceable; like a dragon's name. It's easier to say Mr. Fell, and he seems okay with it."

"Somehow, I think it fits him."

Charles simply nodded and pointed at his cart. "And what would you have, sir?"

"Toasts, please. Butter and yam. And orange juice, please?" He wasn't used to this kind of thing, but he felt he should say _please_ a lot.

"Of course." Charles filled another tray with Crowley's choice. "Will that be all?"

"Yes, thank you." Crowley picked up the two trays with the elegance of someone who had been forced to try many jobs until getting a decent source of income. He was about to close the door with his foot when Charles stopped him.

"Wait, sir. You need to take this." He produced two big plastic bags and handed them with his gloved hands.

"What for?" asked Crowley, putting the bags under his armpit.

"Put your sheets, towels or even clothes there. They have a hermetic seal. We'll deliver them tomorrow morning."

"Well, to clean my clothes, I need to get them back first", said Crowley juggling a bit. "Will you finish the second floor sterilization today?"

"Oh, uh, about that." Charles red face contrasted with the blue facial mask he was wearing. "Second floor sterilization haven't started yet, sir?"

"What?" shouted Crowley. He panicked and looked back inside to see a cute sleeping critic drooling over his work. "When I'm going to get my things back?"

"I'm sorry, sir, but the direction has prioritized the cleaning of the common areas once the floor where the infected couple were staying."

"Well, but you cleaned TWO floors" he emphasized the _two_ with his fingers, making the trays tremble a bit. "You could have cleaned their floor and the common areas, what was the point of cleaning another floor then?".

"Uh, um, the original idea, was to clean all the rooms first" he mumbled. Crowley smelled improvisation and an idea crossed his mind.

"Wait. There were more people infected?" Charles' eyes opened in panic.

"Enjoy your breakfast, Mr Crowley." And he ran as fast as he could while pushing the breakfast cart.

«Well, aren't those big news to start the day with?»

Crowley came inside and put the trays on the table and left the bags over a chair. He took a sip of his coffee. After the conversation with Charles, it was already cold. Maybe it was already cold when it had been poured. «I'll tell Aziraphale not to tip Charles never again.» He had to decide now. Let Aziraphale rest for a bit or make him eat a cold breakfast? Since there was no point in waking up Aziraphale, and he didn't really want to eat alone, he decided to take Aziraphale's offer and borrow some of his clothes.

He opened the wardrobe Aziraphale had pointed at yesterday and was greeted by the creamiest combination of colours he'd ever imagined. Shirts were okay, since they didn't have the problem of falling. Finding something to cover his legs was another thing, and he had no patience to check every single one of the pieces to see one that might be slightly smaller, so he picked up a red and gold tartan shirt that reached until the middle of his thighs and headed to the bathroom. 

«I really needed that shower.»

While he was drying he heard some sounds coming from the main room. He quickly put on the shirt and a towel around his waist and came out to greet his room-mate. Aziraphale didn't seem to worry about the cold tea and had already eaten most of his plate.

"Good morning, my dear!" He wasn't looking at him, simply focused on his cake of choice.

"Sorry I didn't wake you up, but the drinks were already cold, so..."

"Don't worry, I'm already boiling some water" he lifted his head to point at the teapot, but he noticed Crowley's outfit and his eyes shined.

"Oh, I see you did as I say. You look lovely on bigger clothes, you know?" «Like a girl on his boyfriend's sweatshirt.» "Uh, is that a towel?" Aziraphale focused back on his piece of cake.

"Yeah, sorry. I couldn't find trousers that wouldn't fall of and uh..."

"My dear, that's what belts were invented for. Do you plan of dressing like this all day?" Aziraphale looked at Crowley like that could be some kind of torture for him. "Did you ask when are they going to give you back your belongings?"

"Well, not today. They are cleaning the common areas, like... do that first time yesterday!" Crowley took a bite of his cold toast. It was awful. He didn't take another and sighed. "I think there were more people infected than those two and that's why they cleaned two floors yesterday."

"Really? Why?"

"You should have seen the face of cold-drinks-Charley when I asked him. Same panic as you when you noticed the towel. Well, not as much, he even fled, you're still here."

"Ah, yes, that sounds like Charles." The teapot started to boil and Aziraphale walked to the teapot and prepared two cups. "But that's really unfortunate! Should we worry? I feel like we are too relaxed, and that makes me feel bad about myself. People are dying!"

"There is no point about worrying, we are here, and we can't do anything about it." Aziraphale handed him a cup of tea. It wasn't really Crowley's thing, but he hated cold coffee. After a few sips, it wasn't that bad. "Well, I think there is one thing we can do about it."

"Oh, and what is it?"

"Please, don't tip that guy ever again." Crowley looked at his toast in disgust.

Aziraphale simply laughed and handed him his plate, where the only remains were a dozen of grapes. "I know they are no apples but, hey, wine is made of this!" He moved back to his wardrobe and took out some clothes which he arranged beautifully over the bed. "I'm going to have a shower now and then I'll find you something to wear. I'll pay you to buy something online if that is what it takes to get you out of that towel!"

"Oh, if what you want is to get me out of this towel then you simply have to ask!"

Aziraphale got pale and mumbled something while walking backwards until he reached the bathroom door, which he closed after a few failed tries. A couple of minutes passed before Crowley heard the water running. «I hope it wasn't too much. I might break him again.» A shiver went down his body and he tried not to think about it. Once he had finished the grapes, tea and juice, he managed to get every cup and plate on just one tray. Charles hadn't said when were they going to get them back. Or the plastic bags. «Maybe I shouldn't have scared him. That's what I get when I ask too many questions.»

He saw the plastics bags on the chair next to him and realized he had forgotten to put his clothes in and to tell Aziraphale about it. «Damn, I left my clothes on the bathroom floor.» An evil plan started to form in his head. «Mmmm, maybe I can sneak in with the excuse of picking them up? No, that's stupid, he'll get mad and tell you that you could've waited until he was finished.» Those were dangerous thoughts, he needed a distraction.

"Crowley?" he heard before he could think about something else to do.

"What?" Crowley looked around, but Aziraphale wasn't back in the room.

"Here." Aziraphale was peeking through the bathroom door. "I'm afraid I forgot my clothes."

Crowley looked at the bed and, yes, Aziraphale was right, there were they, perfectly arranged. A beige shirt, a yellow jumper, a pair of brown trousers and tartan socks. "Okay, wait." He fetched them and ran to the bathroom's door. Aziraphale was timidly covering himself with a towel too tiny for him which he needed to hold with his hand. If he just opened the door, Crowley could simply put them over a shelf, but Aziraphale was having none of it. He reached with his free hand and took his clothes hastily. Maybe too much, because he took Crowley's towel with them. The shirt could have been long enough to cover him, but he forgot to button up. Two seconds later, an embarrassed Aziraphale and an exposed Crowley exchanged looks. "Sorry," he said, and closed the door on his face.

"Fuck it!"

Crowley rushed to the wardrobe again while buttoning up the shirt. He checked the drawers and found Aziraphale's underwear. The drawer arrangement made Crowley wonder if Aziraphale was a fan of Marie Kondo. It also smelled flowery, and he later found out the scent was coming from a bar soap. "They all look the same size" Crowley mumbled during his search. He decided a good approach could be checking the elasticity of every pair of pants until he found a pair that showed more resistance, he didn't think about it twice and put them on instantly. Selecting the trousers was far easier, he put on the darkest ones Aziraphale had. But he didn't have any luck while looking for a belt.

"Here!" he heard. Aziraphale was giving him one without looking at his face.

"I only brought one this time, I'm sorry. You need it more than I do." And with that, he went back to his desk and began to write.

«Should I speak with him about what happened?» It was too risky, but he did have to tell him something or maybe they wouldn't speak again.

"Oh, Aziraphale! We need to put our clothes and towels in hermetic bags!" He checked the chair, but they were already gone.

"Yes, I already did, you were too busy checking my underwear" he said non-chalantly but with a red tint covering his ears. "I also put away the clothes you let back on the bathroom." Aziraphale had say everything without looking at him even once.

"I'm sorry, I should have dressed first time. I wasn't trying to do anything weird..." Crowley mumbled.

"No, uh... It was my fault, you don't need to worry" he said, still not looking at him. "Just, please... let me finish this, I couldn't last night."

Crowley nodded and checked the room for some entertainment until Aziraphale decided to talk to him again. He realised the bed was still unmade, so he straightened the sheets and lay on it with his phone to play some idle game. Crowley felt a bit could, and regretted making the bed, the shirt was too thin for him and his hair was still wet. While he was playing, he checked on Aziraphale, who was looking intensely at the piece of paper in front of him, but the fountain pen was kept in place in his hand, which was trembling slightly.

«He's probably distracted about earlier.»

"I wonder..." said Aziraphale then, like he knew Crowley was watching. "Do you think I should write about your feelings?"

"My feelings?" «What?»

"Yes, about your earlier deduction. When you told me you feel there were probably more people infected."

«Oh, so he was actually working.» "I don't know. Would it be fair to the people who is infected?"

"Is it fair if the hotel is concealing information to us? Maybe they are even hiding it from the authorities."

"The authorities may know, don't you think? I mean, the doctors checked us, so they knew if we were infected."

"Maybe they were infected but they didn't show any symptoms? And they decided it was safe to keep them here?"

"Here? With us? Without telling anyone?"

"That was exactly my point."

"I can't..."

"I mean" Aziraphale interrupted him. "The hotel management probably knows, I don't think the doctors would kept that information from them."

"What if they did? What if they rearranged the infected people and they are sharing a room with other unknowingly?" Crowley's earlier confidence started to fade. "What if _I_ am infected?" Crowley started to panic.

Aziraphale moved next to him in the bed, and put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. I am sure you're not infected. If you where I think they must have sterilized your floor, don't you think?"

"Yeah, well... that's what they say. Why should we trust them?" he shivered. «Maybe that's why they don't want to give me my things...»

"As I already said, my dear, you don't have to worry about being infected; but you may get a cold if you stay in the bed without drying your hair." Aziraphale stood up and looked at him with a serious face. "Sit, please, I'll do it."

Aziraphale rummaged in a drawer and produced a hairdryer, diffuser included; he then went to the bathroom and returned with some kind of conditioner and a brush. Crowley sat on the bed as commanded and looked at the other man with interest. "Are you really going to dry my hair?"

"I'm going to _style_ your hair. If you want me to, of course." Crowley nodded. "Then, please, move to the chair on my desk, it has good illumination and sockets nearby."

Crowley sat as he was told and let himself relax. Aziraphale had been right, he was feeling a bit cold, maybe he should've dried his hair first thing but he liked how it looked when he let it air dry. Aziraphale brushed his hair with a wooden brush and then massaged his scalp with his hands. Oh, he could fall asleep like this, no worries indeed. The pleasure went as soon as it had come, when Aziraphale started to apply the cream and crunched his hair meticulously. It felt weird to Crowley to be treated like this, somehow, it felt intimate. «Even more than flashing him,» he thought, unable to suppress a chuckle.

"Is everything alright, my dear?" Aziraphale stopped and moved to be on his line of sight.

"Oh, yes... It's just... I wasn't expecting the day to go like this."

"Me neither" he replied with a smile, "but I like it" and he went back to work.

Aziraphale turned on the hairdryer at the minimum speed and medium heat; the drying would extend for a while. Since Crowley wasn't allowed to move, he looked at the only thing he could: Aziraphale's report. It couldn't be called a report, there were ideas connected by arrows and big questions marks. At the edge he could see _Crowley_ underlined _._ Interesting.

"I don't think your boss would accept this" he joked.

The hairdryer stopped, but he knew his hair wasn't done yet. Aziraphale sighed.

"To be fair, my boss didn't ask me to write about what's happening here."

"What?" Crowley turned the chair to face Aziraphale. "Then why did you say so?" «Oh, no!» "You didn't want to sleep with me because you think I'm infected!" He tried to escape, but Aziraphale kept him in place.

"Of course, no! I just... yes, I didn't want to sleep with you, but I don't think you are infected at all. I mean, you can be" Crowley tried to protest, "but so can I! The matter is, Crowley, we don't know. Do you think I would be this close to you now if I thought you were infected? Or last night, at dinner..."

Aziraphale was pouting, and that shit was magical. Crowley had forgot how to form words, he just wanted to nod enthusiastically and do whatever that man said. «What I've become?» No, that wasn't right, there was something those pouty-eyes were trying to hide.

"So... you admit you didn't want to sleep with me?"

"I do, and I'm sorry." He seemed sincere.

"Can I know why?"

"Maybe later, is that okay?" Aziraphale looked at him with a real concerned in his eyes, far from that enchanting pout he was employing before.

"Okay." Crowley turned and let Aziraphale do his hair once again; but he wasn't satisfied with Aziraphale's explanation.

"If your boss didn't ask you this, then why are you doing it?"

"Because I share some of your concerns. I hadn't thought about more people being infected until you said so, that's why I wrote your name, but there are many things that make me wonder what's really happening outside our room. Why move you here without your clothes? If they think West wings guests' belongings can be contaminated, then why moving the people here too?"

"Yeah, I don't think they are following any kind of protocol. And if they do, it sucks."

"Certainly." The hairdryer stopped, along with Aziraphale hand on his hair. "It's done. Do you want to see it?"

"Of course" he said. It felt weird, like his hair didn't have any weight. He walked to the mirror on the wardrobe and saw well defined waves framing his hair. Aziraphale had followed him, and was looking at Crowley expecting some kind of reaction and squeezing the hairdryer so hard that his knuckles had gone white.

"Hey" Crowley said, "what have you done with my lovely mess?"

"You don't like it?" Aziraphale frowned.

"Of course I do! But I didn't know I could look like this! Are you a secret hairstylist posing as a food critic who hoards books? You have too many little secrets!"

Crowley loved it, he was used to his frizzy hair, but Aziraphale had done wonders in... what? Twenty minutes?

"Oh, I just did like I do mine, I'm not a hairstylist at all." Aziraphale smiled and his hands relaxed on the hairdryer. "You're a wavy, of course, but I knew the curly method would work with you too. You are sparkling, my dear."

"Thank you. I mean it."

"And do you feel better now? Can you... forgive me about last night?"

"I think..." Crowley thought. Could he? Maybe he needed another proof of Aziraphale's sincerity. "I think I can" he said, and kissed the blonde forehead. Aziraphale didn't show any disgust, neither he tried to escape or to clean his face. He simply stood there, like a statue, as he was done when they met for the first time. His eyes were open and were exploring Crowley's face, looking for some kind of answer or reaction. Sadly, Crowley didn't know the question.

"So..." said Crowley awkwardly, "are you going to complete your investigation? Even if it's not for your boss?"

Aziraphale seemed to came back from a weird dream, and his expression took some time to relax before he could realize he had been asked a question. "I'll just... keep taking notes about every odd occurrence we experience. You can add your own thoughts too, of course."

"Well, yes. Why don't we discuss it with a bottle of your wine?"

"Yes, please, I think I may need a glass right now."

Crowley prepared the glasses and Aziraphale got the bottle. They moved to their designated armchairs and shared their thoughts. Soon they wondered why they didn't clean the clothes of every people since day one instead of wasting time sterilising the rooms completely. Then Crowley mourned his bass and his laptop, and Aziraphale kindly offered his brand new one. He should write his critics there, but he loved staining his hands with ink and he had made the most of the voice-to-speech option on his computer. Crowley accepted his offer instantly, and even offered himself to transcribe what Aziraphale wanted to dictate him. In return, of course, he installed Steam to get a way to pass the time.

They easily came to an agreement, Crowley could play Plague Inc. while Aziraphale would write a critic of the sushi place they had for dinner. Then Crowley would transcribe the critic into an email to Aziraphale's boss. The wine made both of them more excited about the endless possibilities the arrangement could offer them, and soon made a list of nearby restaurants and other places that offered home delivery. Today it was Aziraphale's choice, and they tried a new Turkish restaurant in the area. They enjoyed the meal, but sadly the delivery was late, and they had a cold lunch. Aziraphale was kind, and blamed the timing to the actual corona virus crisis instead of blaming the restaurant.

He promised to try the place again once this mess would be over and Crowley wondered if he would be with Aziraphale too by then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter: _Will Aziraphale run out of excuses?_


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I'd like to say I'm really sorry from the bottom of my heart. Even if we were aware of which bad things could happen, you never expect them to hit yourself or your people as hard as it did. I've been through some bad experiences and I haven't found the strength to keep writing a story that I wanted to be fun, and fuffly and even sexy while I've been converted into an empty vessel that can't enjoy anything that used to enjoy. I can't read, and that was the thing that sucked most of the time of a day, writing was what filled my nights and now is just a painful and tiring chore. I've installed many video games and neither of then have been able to bring me a bit of joy, I fail solving the most basic Rubik cubes I have (I can hear the pyraminx laughing at me). I've become an apathy puppet that can only breathe, eat and sleep and I'm sorry.
> 
> Today I was able to sit on my computer and get the courage to tell all of you that are waiting that I'm sorry and that this history (and all of you) deserve an ending. Is not the one I had in mind, but it's open enough to get a second part in the future if I feel I can make it justice.

Aziraphale observed Crowley over his glasses. He was laying on the bed with the laptop over him, completely unaware of the world around him. Crowley had finished transcribing Aziraphale's last critic and, as it was promised, he got Aziraphale's computer for him to play around. At first, he had been reticent, he had said "but you'll get bored without my attention!", but Aziraphale excused himself and said he wanted to read one of his most recent acquisitions. 

Crowley hadn't been completely wrong, although, since Aziraphale's gaze got trapped more than once on the sly creature over his bed. Sometimes he got caught, but Crowley simply smiled without looking at him. It was an interesting game to play along, and soon Aziraphale started to detect some of Crowley's peeks too. He didn't know if he was losing, but he soon realized he didn't care at all if he got caught. There it got the moment when he simply put the neglected book over his desk and simply stood there looking at a smiling Crowley that didn't dare to look back. If Aziraphale had been a bit attentive to Crowley's hands, he would have realized the redhead had stopped pretending to play even before him.

Then a shiver shook Crowley's body. Aziraphale first impression was that he had won the staring contest, and soon Crowley would make a move. Instead, he sneezed.

Well, that wasn't was Aziraphale was expecting at all. 

"Isn't it a bit cold?" said Crowley after blowing his nose.

Aziraphale wasn't usually a person who felt cold at all, partially because he was used to wearing more capes than the average person; but some people also had told him he could get a job as a human heater if he wanted to. He looked at Crowley, again, this time to check his clothing instead of his shape. Of course he would be cold. Aziraphale walked to his wardrobe and took out his robe.

"Here, you need it more than I do."

Crowley put the laptop by his side and got up to let Aziraphale dress him. Aziraphale's hands brushed against Crowley's skin and was surprised by the coldness.

"You are freezing, my dear!" he quickly put a hand over his forehead to check his temperature, but Crowley quickly stepped back.

"I'm fine. I have cold blood, don't worry." But his face looked paler than usual, something that did worried Aziraphale.

"Please, get under the sheets. I'll check the thermostat."

Crowley didn't protest and did as he was told. Aziraphale might say he even purred a bit when he stirred under the sheets.

"The heating is on, but I only feel cold air coming out" said Aziraphale raising his hand over the vent. "I'll better tell maintenance."

"Really, isn't that big of a deal. I'm better now here under the sheets." Crowley made an inviting gesture that Aziraphale decided to ignore for now. It was tempting, of course, but the temperature would start to fall off quickly if they kept pumping cold air into the room. He picked up the phone and called reception, and a male voice that he couldn't recognize greeted him.

"I'd like to talk with the maintenance service, please."

"With the sterilization process our maintenance team is a bit overworked. Would you mind telling me your problem and I'll send them over once they are done?"

"They say the maintenance people are busy with the sterilization" he told Crowley covering the phone with his hand. "I believed that was done by professionals."

"I dunno, maybe their people are qualified." «Oh, of course.»

"We have a problem with the heating, the vents are expelling cold air."

"That should be expected, sir." «What?»

"Why?"

"Air vents are a place where dangerous particles, gases, fumes or alive matter like virus or bacteria can easily build up, so the direction decided to sterilize them." Aziraphale noticed how it was told without any pauses, and he deduced they probably had made the man memorize the phrase. But the man hadn't finished talking. "And that's why the heating won't be operating for a couple of days."

Aziraphale gave himself a couple of seconds to consider the best answer. Crowley, on his part, had crawled from the other side of the bed and had listened the nonsensical excuse they had been given. He observed Aziraphale with a sly smile, probably trying to guess what he'll say.

"I completely understand the possibility that the virus had reached the air vents from the infected rooms and that it might be needed to sterilize them, for which it might be needed to stop the air circulation and, with it, the heating. Although, air keeps coming into my room. Of course, it is cold air, but now I'm not protesting about the temperature, but the possibility that you might be letting infected air into the place people are staying."

The other side of the line didn't answer, and Aziraphale noticed how Crowley mouthed "bravo" and clapped silently.

"I, uh, consulted about your problem. Air circulation was stopped completely, both cold and warm. What might be getting into your room is air displaced by the sterilization system during the cleaning process."

"Oh, so I'm getting a mix of viruses and disinfectants into my lungs. What is it? Bleach? Chlorine? Some kind of alcohol? Surely it'll be something I shouldn't be breathing."

"I don't think they'll be using something toxic to clear the air ducts" said Crowley.

"Me neither, but it won't matter. See." He cleared his troath before uncovering the phone again. "I'd like to have the air vents closed until the air vents sterilization is complete, could it be arranged?" Once again, the line went silent for a while, probably asking their superiors about a solution.

"It is forbidden to our workers to enter any room if there isn't an emergency. But we can hand you the tools to close the air vents by yourself."

"But I don't even know how to!"

"It's just a couple of screws, I'll do it" said Crowley while taking the phone off him. "We need the tools asap, my ass is freezing up here." And he hung up without waiting for an answer.

"That was rude" said Aziraphale.

"Well, you might have used some fancy words but I'm sure that guy preferred hearing the word ass than to be scolded by you any longer."

"I just said what was needed. They'll be there soon."

"Oh, they should or they'll face your wrath" joked Crowley.

And they were soon, before Aziraphale could sit on his favourite armchair, they heard a knock on the door and headed to retrieve the tools. As Crowley had deduced, it were probably some screws, because they were simply given a screwdriver and some plates.

"Are you certain about doing this?"

"Yeah, I've done almost everything. You don't earn that much money by playing the bass in stinky pubs. I'll need a chair." He was taller than Aziraphale was and he could reach the vent easily, but it wasn't a comfortable position to use the screwdriver. Crowley took off the robe and let Aziraphale help him to get on the chair; Aziraphale then reached for his hips. "What are you doing?"

"I'm trying to avoid an accident!"

"Yeah, and enjoying it at the same time."

From Aziraphale's position it was difficult to see Crowley doing the work, on one hand he had to force his neck to look up and, on the other hand, he was really distracted by Crowley's rear. It was finished soon. Crowley simply unscrew the frame, put the new plate on his place and screw it again.

"See? I told you it was easy" he said once his feet were back on the floor.

"Oh, but there are two other vents too!" said Aziraphale, almost too eager.

"I knew you were enjoying it!" Well, he was the one who removed his robe first!

The second vent didn't present any problem, but they had some troubles with the third one, which waited for them in the bathroom. Crowley had to balance himself on the bath with his naked feet and with a hand on Aziraphale's shoulder while holding the plate on his mouth and unscrewing with his right hand. That's when Aziraphale discovered he was left-handed, after a couple of curses and some weird tries that showed that there were no other positions they could try to close the vent. While unscrewing the second screw, Aziraphale noticed something wasn't right; Crowley's face was contorting. Before Aziraphale could ask what was wrong, Crowley couldn't contain a sneeze and his feet slipped. Thanks to Aziraphale's firm grip on his hips, Crowley avoided the worst and Aziraphale had no doubt about telling him "I told you so!" while secretly enjoying the other man weight on his hands. If he only could have seen Crowley's face, he would've seen and even bigger smug smile than his. 

"Well, that was the last one" said Crowley cleaning the sweat on his face.

"Oh, poor thing! We did this because you were cold and now you are soaked!"

Aziraphale ran to his wardrobe again to find dry clothes and handed him the first shirt he found.

"Do you really expect me to wear this?"

He had a closer look at the shirt and found it had a pink and blue flowery pattern.

"Uh, oh, sorry" Aziraphale put his head into the wardrobe once again. "I know I have something dark, maybe maroon or greyish..."

Crowley put his hand over Aziraphale's shoulder and closed the wardrobe's doors. "Don't worry. I'd wore worse." He had already changed. "How do I look?"

Aziraphale examined Crowley's attire. The new shirt didn't pair at all with the brown trousers but, somehow, Crowley looked like someone who would get out his house with the first thing he could fetch. Maybe that's why he only had dark clothes, so he'll never make a bad combination.

"Incredibly ridiculous, yet stunning. Let's complete the look with a robe." Aziraphale handed him his robe again. "I don't want you to get sick, please." Crowley complied with a smile. "Ah... you really enjoy being taken care of don't you, my dear?"

"I'm not used to it" was his answer before falling flat into the mattress. "That was more tiring than expected."

"Balancing on a bath is a dangerous sport, of course you'd be tired. Probably starving too." «At least, I am.» "Which place did we decided for today?" he asked surrounding the bed to get into the phone.

"Uuh, the Indian one? Or the Brazilian? I don't know" his voice came a bit muffled; Aziraphale turned to see himself turned into a purrito.

"Since I see you don't care that much, I'll choose. I think I prefer Indian today." Indian sweets, to be precise.

The service was faster than the day before and the food arrieved hot and early. Crowley excused himself and said he wasn't that hungry, so Aziraphale complied and ate the dinner for two without complaining. Without complaining about the food, that's it; he kept asking Crowley if he was feeling well but the redhead kept answering that he wasn't able to eat if he was feeling sleepy. Too distracted by his meal, Aziraphale didn't notice Crowley's shivers.

"Would you help me with my critic before we go to sleep?" he said while chewing Crowley's chhena poda. Exquisite.

No answer came.

"Crowley?" «He might have fallen asleep.»

He finished his dessert and went to put Crowley into a proper position inside the bed, just to find a very pale Crowley with cold sweat covering his face.

"Crowley! Why didn't you tell me? I'm calling a doctor right now!"

Aziraphale ran to get the phone, but was stopped by Crowley's hand.

"Don't. It's just a cold." He coughed a bit. "Like you said this morning, I should have dried my hair first thing."

Aziraphale tried to put his hand over Crowley's forehead and, his time, he didn't encounter any resistance. It was as cold as the rest of his body.

"Hmmm, doesn't look like you have a fever."

"See? I told you I wasn't infected!"

"What? This isn't about me not believing if you are or nor infected, this is about YOU being well and you are certainly not and I don't care if it's caused by stupid new virus or the weakest strain of flu."

"I'm not infected..." mumbled Crowley again, covering his face under the sheets. Aziraphale heard a shuffled cry but didn't dare to uncover him. Instead, he sat on the bed and caressed the bulge that he thought belonged to Crowley's back. Many minutes paused before Crowley cried himself to sleep and Aziraphale was able to put him into a confortable position with his head over the pillow. He checked his temperature again, but it seemed the same.

«What should I do?» he wondered. Crowley insisted he wasn't infected, and maybe it was none of his business... but he seemed so fragile right now, in a puddle of cold sweat. Even if it was wrong, he preferred to check with a doctor and get a negative result with an angry Crowley than do nothing at all just to please him. Even if it wasn't a COVID19 case, he still was the living image of a sick person, so Aziraphale picked up the phone and tried to be as silent as he could.

"How can we help you?" said the voice on the other line. It was Charles.

"Oh, Charles, I have a serious question" he whispered.

"What is it, Mr. Fell?"

"Do you have a protocol prepared in case you suspect someone has been infected?"

"Are you feeling bad, Mr. Fell?" asked Charles. He sounded genuinely concerned.

"Not at all, my dear, but I think Mr. Crowley has seen better days."

"We can transfer the call to one of the doctor that it's assigned to the hotel, he can explain his symptoms and they'll decide what's the better approach."

"I'm afraid Mr. Crowley doesn't believe he's infected. I'm doing this behind his back." «Also, I don't want to wake him up. I'm sure that could make him even angrier that discovering I'm calling for help.»

"Okay, then..." Charles paused for a bit and Aziraphale heard some keys being tipped. "Have you checked his temperature?"

"We don't have a thermometer, but I had the chance to touch his forehead and he's freezing."

"I looked for the guide they gave us, the hotel workers, to know if we could've been infected."

"Don't you think you should have give that to every one staying here?" Charles ignored him.

"What other symptoms have you noticed?"

"He sneezes, I think he's a bit bunged up."

"No cough?"

"No, I don't think so."

"If we have to believe what this says, it doesn't look like coronavirus. It's probably a cold."

"Can't he be on a early stage?"

"I'm no doctor, Mr. Fell" answered Charles, hopeless.

"I'm sorry, my dear Charles... I shouldn't be bothering you. It's not even me who's amiss... Thank you."

"Wait, Mr. Fell. Don't hang up! I think we can do something!" Aziraphale heard more typing and clicking noises.

"What is it?"

"I have an idea but, please, I need you to be discreet." He checked on Crowley again and saw his beautiful hair sticking to his face, forgetting all the hard word Aziraphale had done that morning.

«Where am I getting into?» "Of course, Charles, whatever it takes to help Mr. Crowley." 

"Well, uh..." Charles cleared his throat and whispered. "We have two other guests who might be infected but haven't been checked yet."

Aziraphale nodded, trying to be as discreet as posible while Crowley's earlier idea had been confirmed. Soon he realized Charles could not see him, so he quietly said "I see".

"They are due to get a visit from a doctor tomorrow morning. I could tell them we have another suspicious case and sent them there to check Mr. Crowley."

"But then he'll know that I told someone!"

"No! Hear me out! I can say the doctor the guest isn't cooperative and that they may disguise it as a routine check. Then they'll examine you too and he won't suspect a thing!"

"That sounds..." «I'm definitely tipping Charles whatever Crowley says.» "like it may work!" he said almost too excited. After checking on a still asleep Crowley, he uncovered his mouth and whispered "Are you sure you can do this?"

"Yes, I don't think they'll risk the chance of not checking a possible positive." Charles sighed. "But I need you to promise me you won't say anything about the other guests."

"I won't, I promise. Although I'd say I believe you should have been open about it from the start."

"Yes, I know! That's what I told the manager but he says he doesn't want people to panic! And now is even worse because people are becoming suspicious and won't stop asking me! I had to ask my boss for more time here at reception, I got sick of delivering food and lying to people."

«Like Crowley...»

"Well, you now may trust me. If you think you might need to talk about anything, I'll be here."

"Thank you, Mr. Fell. I mean it, I wish every guest were just half like you are."

"Oh, now you're just exaggerating." Aziraphale giggled a bit and had to cover his mouth.

"I said I mean it!"

"Just..."

"Okay" he cut Aziraphale off. "Then I'll sent the doctor tomorrow morning. They'll check on the other possible positives first, so I don't know when they'll be there."

"Better then, if I don't know when are they coming I can act surprised."

"Will that be all, Mr. Fell?"

"More than I expected. Thank you, Charles, you were really helpful."

"I'm just doing my job. Goodnight, Mr. Feel."

"Goodnight."

Aziraphale left the phone in its place but didn't move from his place. Like this morning, Crowley was under the sheets and Aziraphale was sitting on the bed by the room's phone. This time, however, Crowley wasn't smiling and laughing at his exaggerated pleas. He was sleeping soundly and fighting the shivers that time to time tried to woke him. Aziraphale moved his hair from his hair and checked his temperature again and, again, he was freezing. After all they had passed to day, he had ran out of excuses.

He looked on his wardrobe for the... he wasn't sure what time since that morning, but he was certain it was going to be the last one. He put on his patterned pajamas, folded carefully his clothes and looked at the bed. «Not yet», he thought. Aziraphale used the bathroom, washed his hands and brushed his teeth before looking at the bed again. «Not yet.» He cleaned the table, since he didn't got the chance when he finished dinner and put his laptop on is desk again. The bed was still there and he was running out of excuses.

«Fuck it!»

He opened the bed by the wardrobe's side and got inside. He was playing it safe, Crowley was far away from him. He reached from the sheets and the blanket to cover himself, just to realize that Crowley has hanging on them like his life depended on it. Aziraphale couldn't avoid a giggle, and had to pull a bit harder, moving Crowley along.

"I told you I'm not infected" mumbled Crowley.

«Did he heard me?» Aziraphale panicked. It couldn't be, he had checked on him constantly. He rase his head a bit to look at Crowley's face and the moonlight simply revealed a sleep-talker. Aziraphale smiled and felt the need to answer.

"And I'm telling you that I don't care if you are." He covered himself and felt Crowley's closeness under the sheets. Aziraphale moved closer to Crowley's back embracing the coldness of him.Crowley didn't answer. He didn't shiver again either.

Next morning, when the doctor knocked the door, Crowley heard Aziraphale say that breakfast could wait today. 

Hugging the big man next to him, Crowley agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was it! I hope you enjoyed the ride, even if the end was a bit shaky. Stay safe at home, people! Share time with your loved ones, even if it just a phone or video call. They miss you as much as you miss them, we are just too cowards to be the ones pressing the call button. You'll feel better afterwards, I promise. Hearing them is what help me keep going every day, even if its the same dull day as before.
> 
> I love you all. Take care!


End file.
